Coffee?
by rabidcrazygirl
Summary: The story of Ianto's time at Torchwood told through encounters over the most important beverage there is. Jack/Ianto
1. The First Day

**This is a little fic that will probably become a longer one. It basically tells the story of Ianto's time at Torchwood through the coffee that he makes (or doesn't make) for the team. In this chapter, I just enjoyed showing the relationships between Ianto and every member of the team. **

**There will probably be more chapters depicting different incidences—Gwen joining, post-Cyberwoman, Jack's disappearance, etc. **

**The usual disclaimers apply.**

Ianto Jones had come in to work on his very first day completely prepared to use the fanciest coffee recipes in his arsenal, so desperate was he to gain the respect and appreciation of his new employers. Mochaccinos, cappuccinos, lattes—no drink was too fancy for him. He was so absorbed in the various intricacies of his recipes that he didn't notice the surprised looks that Jack shot him when the captain saw that Ianto was actually able to work the Impossible Coffee Machine of Doom.

"Coffee?" Ianto had nervously asked Suzie. The woman had looked up at him from the obscure piece of alien weaponry she'd been studying, amusement etched in every line of her face.

"Sorry?"

Ianto coughed and shifted where he stood. "I'm making coffee. Would you like some? I've got mochaccino, cappuccino—"

"Just a coffee would be great, thanks," she said, cutting him off before he could recite the entire menu. She pushed a strand of wavy black hair away from her face and gave him a distracted smile, obviously dismissing him. Ianto nodded and, heaving a small sigh of relief that the awkward exchange was finished, walked over to Toshiko's workstation.

"Hello, Ianto," the quiet woman greeted him. "How's your first day going?"

"Fine, thanks, Tosh," Ianto replied, smiling gratefully at her. "I've got coffee brewing. Would you like a cup?"

Tosh gave him one of her sweet little smiles that (at least for a moment) dissolved all of Ianto's anxiety. "Sure, why not?" she said. "A cup of coffee would be brilliant."

"Great," Ianto said. "I'd better go ask Owen." Tosh laughed at the look of reluctance on his face and turned back to her work.

The young doctor was in the medical bay, up to his elbows in a dead Weevil. He didn't look up when he heard Ianto enter the chamber.

"Would you like some coffee?" Ianto asked, not bothering with a greeting that he know wouldn't be well received. The other man snorted a derisive laugh.

"Oh, Christ, we really have got a butler now," he said, sarcasm practically dripping off every syllable. "No, I would _not_ like a coffee. You might be able to see that I'm a little busy right now."

Ianto might have been offended, but he had honestly not expected any other response from the man. He nodded, smile still plastered on his face even though the doctor's back was still to him so he couldn't see it.

"Very good, sir," Ianto said, trying to play up the butler image as much as he could, just to mess with Owen. He caught Owen's attention, certainly—the other man turned and shot Ianto a sharp look that said quite clearly, "Don't fuck with me, mate." Ianto only clasped his hands behind his back and gave him a little bow before exiting the medical bay, chuckling to himself.

He made his way slowly to Jack's office—it was the order he really did not want to take. Just being around the older man made Ianto uncomfortable, but for reasons he couldn't pinpoint. Perhaps it was the memory of Jack's body pressed so close to his own only the night before, or the way he smelled, or just his irresistible cocky attitude. Ianto had no idea, but to satisfy his reluctance, he settled for simply sticking his head in Jack's office so as to limit all possible contact with the man.

Jack was shifting through a daunting mountain of paperwork. Ianto cleared his throat and he looked up, fixing Ianto with an intent blue-eyed stare. One of those breathtaking smiles broke over his face.

"Coffee?" Jack asked. Ianto blinked at him, momentarily thrown. _That's my line!_ he found himself thinking.

"Sorry?" he said.

"You're making coffee, aren't you?" Jack asked patiently.

"Er…yes," Ianto said. "Would you like a cup?"

"Oh, yes please," Jack said. "Big cup." He held out his hands to mimic the size rather like a small child, and for a moment, Ianto felt his fake smile transform into a very real one.

"Of course, sir," Ianto said. "I'll only be a minute."

Twenty minutes later, all coffee mugs safely delivered, Ianto began clearing up the clutter in the kitchen. Through the doorway he saw Owen make his way over to Suzie's workstation.

"That's the coffee?" he heard the young doctor mutter, pointing at the mug resting on a stack of books on her table. Steam curled up from the liquid's surface in inviting swirls.

Suzie took a sip. Ianto could hear her little contented sigh. "Oh, yes," she said. "That's the coffee."

"Still can't believe he got that machine working." That was Toshiko, walking over to the pair with her own mug cradled in her hands. "I'm pretty sure it's made of some sort of unfathomable alien technology. I can't make head or tail of it."

Ianto smiled to himself at that—these people had obviously never seen the coffee machine at Torchwood One. It took special training to be able to operate it.

Owen had stolen Suzie's mug and was taking a drink, despite her protests. Ianto watched the slightly stunned expression that crossed his face with great pleasure. "Well," Owen said at last. "It looks like Jeeves has some talents, at least."

Suzie hit the doctor lightly on the arm. "Owen! Don't call him that!"

"Why not?" Owen asked. "It's what he _is_. Make the coffee, keep the place tidy. He's the butler."

"Ianto!" Ianto's head jerked up at the sound of his name. He left the kitchen and saw Jack leaning out his office door. "Ianto, would you mind fillin' 'er up again?" He waved his mug in the air.

"Of course, sir," Ianto said, beginning to climb the steps to the office.

_I live to serve_.

**So what did you think? Love it? Hate it? Review, please!**


	2. Newbie

**This is set after "Everything Changes" but before "The Ghost Machine," so Lisa's still living in the basement and Gwen's still really, really new. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the entire world. Not a single thing.**

Ianto Jones didn't realize how completely time had gotten away from him until he heard the crash. It was absolutely deafening, even through several stories of concrete. He glanced at his watch. 10:11.

_Shit_. He was late, and Torchwood always went to hell when Ianto Jones was late to work. He pressed a soft kiss against Lisa's unresponsive mouth, checked her vital signs on the monitor one final time, whispered, "I love you," hoped she could hear him and then hurried out the basement door.

The first thing Ianto saw when he walked onto the main floor of the Hub was Gwen standing guiltily in front of the coffee machine—_his_ coffee machine. He started for her, striding as quickly as he could without seeming ridiculous, determined to save his precious machine from any further harm.

"Gwen—" he called. He saw her stiffen and turn a bit pale. Was she _afraid_ of him? Ianto sighed. Owen had obviously been telling her made-up stories about Ianto's private life again. Sometimes Ianto thought that Owen would jump at _any_ chance to make his life a misery. _As if it needed any help,_ he thought bitterly.

"Ianto, hi—" Gwen said. "Sorry—Owen said I should make a coffee if you weren't here, and then I tried, but—well, this thing—" she gestured helplessly at the machine, "is a bit beyond me."

Ianto heard a snort. He turned and shot a death-glare at Owen, who was watching the entire scene from his computer with his hands folded behind his head, the picture of sadistic leisure. Seeing Ianto's expression, the young doctor mimed an exaggerated shiver of fright and cracked up. Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Doesn't matter," he said, trying to ignore Owen's sniggers. He took pity on Gwen, who was blushing bright scarlet, because he remembered all too well what it was like to be new to this job. "And don't mind Owen. He gets nasty—_nastier_—when he's not had his morning caffeine."

"Yeah, I did notice that," Gwen said, shooting Owen an odd sideways glance that, to Ianto, seemed to utterly smolder with sexual tension. _Owen does it again_, Ianto thought. _Who would have thought that women would be so attracted to the utter tosser personality?_

The familiar alarm signaled Toshiko's entrance, and Ianto watched the young woman bustle into the Hub with her laptop carrier slung over her shoulder, looking as though she'd accidentally overslept (which, judging by the late hour, was doubtless the case). He saw her glance nervously up at Jack's office, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Of course, Tosh typically arrived quite early, just after Ianto, so it was extremely unlikely that Jack wold be angry with her even if she took the entire day off. God knows she deserved it.

"Coffee, Tosh?" Ianto asked. She shot him a grateful smile that became a yawn.

"That would be absolutely fantastic, thanks, Ianto," she said when she had control of her jaw muscles once again.

"Do I hear the melodious tones of Ianto Jones?" _Now_ Jack was visible, peering down over the railing at Ianto and Tosh. "Or should I say, do I hear the melodious tones of Ianto Jones saying something about coffee?"

Ianto smiled up at his boss. "Of course, sir. I'll just go and put the pot on. Sorry it's taken so long." He glanced around the Hub from Tosh, connecting her laptop to the high-powered computer at her workstation, to Owen, whose face was alternating between extreme fatigue and secret desire for Gwen (_he's _so_ obvious_, Ianto thought disgustedly), to Gwen, who was studying her hands, still slightly embarrassed about the coffee-machine-incident. "Who'd like a cup?"

Owen and Tosh's hands shot up into the air even though neither of them looked up at him from their work. Ianto looked up at Jack, who gave him a dazzling grin. "You know what I want," the older man said in that flirtatious way that made Ianto flush as bright as a tomato and concentrate as hard as he could on the fact that he did, in fact, have a girlfriend—one who was currently living in the basement. He sent a quick mental apology to Lisa for the thoughts that popped into his mind at Jack's words.

"Industrial strength, dash of milk, no sugar, sir," Ianto said, very proud of the fact that his voice didn't crack.

"You got it." Jack turned and headed towards his office.

"Did you want a coffee, Gwen?" Ianto asked. The woman grimaced at him.

"Actually, Ianto, I'm not the greatest coffee fan," she told him. "I was only at your machine because Owen wanted—"

There was a crash from Toshiko's workstation as she knocked over an empty mug. "Sorry," she apologized. "Did you just say that you tried to work the coffee machine?" Gwen nodded. Tosh looked at Ianto, horror in her soft brown eyes. Obviously she remembered what Ianto had done to Owen the last time the doctor had touched the machine. The medic had received lukewarm, decaf instant coffee for two weeks straight. Owen had never even considered repeating the offense, although getting "the new girl" to do it was evidently a different matter.

"Let me get you a mug anyway," Ianto said, ignoring Tosh. "We'll see if we can make a convert out of you."

Ten minutes later, a steaming cup in his own hand, he watched the team sipping contentedly at his coffee. Tosh sat at her computer, holding the mug under her chin as she enjoyed the sensation of the steam on her cheeks. Owen drank his in the autopsy chamber, taking sudden, violent swigs of the scalding liquid and pretending that it didn't burn his mouth. Jack drank his in his office while on the telephone with the head of UNIT. He licked his lips after each sip in a way that had made Ianto nearly rush out of the room after delivering the oversized mug. Even Gwen, sitting alone in the conference room with dozens of police reports spread out before her, seemed to appreciate the drink. She gave the cup in her hand a surprised look after each taste of the coffee as though she was consistently astounded by how good it was.

_They all have their places in Torchwood, their places to work and talk and drink coffee._ Ianto considered the mug in his hand, and suddenly he knew _exactly_ where to take it. He knew _exactly_ where he belonged.

"I'm going to the archives," he lied, in case anyone was listening. No one was. He quietly walked off the main floor and down the stairs back towards the deepest recesses of the basement.

_With Lisa. At her side. That's where I belong._

**The next entry'll probably be post-Cyberwoman. We'll see how the dynamics shift! And I just LOVE writing jackass-Owen. It's great. **

**Review, please!**


	3. Stay out of the Basement

**Hello, everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long getting up—I've been on vacation in upstate New York (thankfully getting away from the horrible summers of DC), so I haven't had internet access. Yes, I've been dying without it. But here's this chapter! **

**It's set after "Cyberwoman," but before "Countrycide." Actually, it's set **_**right**_** before "Countrycide." Be prepared for spoilers and some Angst!Ianto. I hope that you enjoy it!**

It wasn't until Ianto Jones had been sitting in the basement for forty minutes that he realized how suspicious he must look. His first day back from suspension and where had he gone? Straight down to the place where he'd hidden a Cyberwoman girlfriend who'd tried to kill the Torchwood team. Upon entering the Hub that morning, Ianto had brewed a pot of coffee, delivered a mug to Jack (who was already in his office), placed full mugs on Tosh, Owen and Gwen's desks, grabbed a mug himself, and then trudged down to the basement. If Owen's coffee was cold by the time the doctor rolled in (half an hour late, most likely), then he could bitch about it to Gwen. Ianto wasn't listening.

_Why did I come down here? _he asked himself when he came to his senses. Force of habit, probably. Every morning for the past few months he'd taken his coffee down here to drink by Lisa's side. On the better mornings, she'd been awake, and they'd been able to talk and sometimes even laugh—just like they used to. On the worse mornings, she'd been unconscious, and Ianto had just stared at her face until his coffee had gone cold.

On the absolute worst mornings, he'd watched helplessly as she'd sobbed from the pain. Those were the mornings that he was most keen on forgetting.

But now there was no more Cyber-medical equipment in that basement room. There was no more eerie blue glow, no more steadily beeping machinery. There was no more Lisa. The chamber that had so long housed the one thing that had made Ianto's life a little bit brighter was now as empty as the coffee mug that dangled from his fingers.

He didn't cry. He didn't have any tears _left_ to cry. He just watched the room, face immobile and unreadable, until he realized that it was suspicious and slightly creepy. Then he left and climbed back up the stairs to the main floor of the Hub.

Ianto reached the Hub floor just as Owen, who had obviously just arrived, was taking the first gulp of his coffee. Ianto watched in amusement as the young doctor pulled a face and spat it back out into his mug. "This coffee," he announced to Torchwood in general, "is bloody freezing. Honestly, it's stone cold."

"It would have been fine if you'd been on time," Tosh said, not turning away from her computer screen. Owen shot her a nasty look that Ianto was glad the woman missed.

"And anyway, cold or not, it's still better than what we've _been_ drinking with Ianto gone," Gwen said, leafing through a newspaper. Her own coffee mug had been drained and was now balancing precariously on a stack of papers. Ianto approached cautiously, afraid that any sudden movements might make it topple to the floor and shatter.

"Can I get a refill for you?" he asked Gwen politely. He was astonished at how easily the butler act returned to him. The voice, the smile—it was as though he'd never left.

Gwen looked up at him, startled. _Fantastic_, Ianto thought. _I've unleashed a Cyberwoman on them and I'm still invisible._ "Oh, that would be lovely, thanks, Ianto," she said, green eyes wide. Ianto could tell that she was consciously trying to project as much empathy into her voice as she could. He wished that she'd save herself the effort and leave it.

"Yeah, mate, could I get a refill, too?" Owen asked, indicating his mug. "It's gone cold, and even your coffee's rubbish when it's cold." This odd attempt at camaraderie was so unlike Owen that Ianto very nearly demanded to know what his game was. But he didn't say anything—he just took the other man's cup and walked away.

"Ticking time-bomb, that one," he heard Owen mutter before Tosh shushed him. Ianto indulged in a fantasy of taking Owen's coffee mug and slamming it into the man's skull, but he figured that violence was probably not the answer. He kept walking. But he didn't walk to the coffee machine. His feet had other plans for the rest of his body. Before he knew it, he was standing outside Jack's office again, rapping on the door.

_Shit. What am I doing?_ he asked himself in the few seconds before he hard Jack's call to enter. He briefly considered running away—but that would be foolish and childish, and besides, he'd done far too much running and hiding from this man in the past few months.

Ianto opened the door and entered the office.

"Coffee?" he asked Jack who was, as usual, seated at his desk.

"You were in the basement," Jack said.

Ianto blinked at him, unsure of how, exactly, to respond.

"I saw you," Jack continued when Ianto remained dumb. "After…recent events, I decided that it would be prudent to expand the CCTV footage to all basement chambers. Or at least, the ones that I know about. I'm going to have to take your word for it that there are no more girlfriends tucked away down there in any secret vaults."

"None, sir," Ianto told him quietly.

"Boyfriends?" Was that a hint of _hope_ in the Captain's eyes? Ianto had never told his boss that he was bisexual, and this last question seemed an awful lot as though Jack was digging for information. As though he wanted to know whether Ianto was into men.

But Jack couldn't possibly be interested. Could he?

"Haven't had a boyfriend since I was seventeen, sir," Ianto said in his most detached and unemotional voice. If Captain Jack began chasing him, he wasn't sure he'd be able to fend him off—that he'd want to fend him off—and right now, when he looked at the American, all he saw were the angry blue eyes behind gun that was firing straight into Lisa.

He wasn't ready to give up that anger. Not yet.

"Ah," Jack said, and Ianto could almost _feel_ those angry blue eyes (which did not seem so angry right now, oh, no) looking him up and down. He barely suppressed a shiver.

"Well, would you do me a favor and stay out of the basement for a month or so?" Jack finally asked. "No offense, but having you down there kind of makes me nervous."

"Of course, sir," Ianto said, plastering the butler-smile on his face even though every word—every reminder—was like a punch to the gut. Jack gave him a long, assessing look that had nothing to do with checking him out.

"You know what, Ianto?" Jack began. "I think that you should come with us on our next field expedition." He laughed. "And it really will be a 'field' expedition. It's _way_ out in the countryside. I think that it'll do you good."

"Do you, sir?"

"Oh, yes. Sort of team bonding. You might want to lose the suit, though it kills me to say it. You know I love the suit."

"_Am_ I part of the team?" Ianto asked.

"What?"

"You said 'team bonding.'" Ianto said. "Am I a part of the team?" He met Jack's eyes, well aware of the challenge in his words. If Jack wanted to drop hints about Lisa, then Ianto was going to confront him about it. He wasn't yet sure whether he would be able to live with the pain of what had happened, but he knew that it would only be worse if it was kept hanging over his head like an invisible guillotine.

Jack gave him another one of those assessing looks. "Do you want to be?" he asked.

Ianto considered the question carefully for a moment. "Yes," he finally said.

"Good," Jack said. Ianto nodded. The conversation seemed to be over, so Ianto began walking back towards the office door.

"Oh, and Ianto—" Jack said. Ianto looked over his shoulder at his boss, who grinned rakishly. "I think I will have some of your coffee," he said. "I've missed it so much, I just can't seem to get enough." Ianto felt a dull pink blush spreading up his cheeks. "And you know exactly how I like it," Jack said. "Don't you?"

Ianto hurried out the door.

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	4. Life Without Coffee

"I don't think that we're ever going to get a cup of his coffee ever again," Owen Harper said mournfully, watching Ianto clean up the debris that littered the various surfaces in the area that passed for Torchwood's lounge

**Hello everybody! In this installment, we find ourselves jumping ahead a bit to a couple weeks after Jack's sudden departure at the end of "End of Days." This chapter focuses more on the viewpoints of Gwen, Owen and Tosh as they watch Ianto putter about in Jack's absence, but **_**don't despair**_**! The next chapter is pretty much entirely Ianto and Jack, so you'll be getting more of your favorite tea-boy then!**

**Not only do I own Torchwood, but I own all the actors as well—notably Gareth David-Lloyd, who is tied up on my bed. HAHAHAHAHAHA.**

"I don't think that we're ever going to get a cup of his coffee ever again," Owen Harper said mournfully, watching Ianto clean up the debris that littered the various surfaces in the area that passed for Torchwood's lounge.

"_Owen_!" Toshiko admonished him. "The poor man's had his heart broken and all you can do is moan about the _coffee_?"

"Well, if I'd known that I'd never have another cup of it ever again I'd have savored the last one a bit more, wouldn't I?" Owen said defensively. Gwen rolled her eyes at her former lover's callousness.

The three Torchwood employees were standing in the meeting room, surveying the Hub—or more specifically, Ianto—through the large plate-glass window. The young man below was perfectly aware of their eyes on him, but he did not look up from the stacks of pizza boxes and the scattered Red Bull cans that lay strewn about his feet.

"Why is he doing this to us?" Owen whined. "It's not as if we drove Jack away!"

"I really don't think it's got anything to do with us, Owen," Gwen said. Her large green eyes were filled with compassion and pity for the man on the Hub's main floor. Over the past few weeks, she and Ianto had grown a great deal closer through their shared love and admiration for their missing Captain. To Gwen's astonishment, Ianto had seemed neither jealous nor surprised to hear of her feelings for Jack. Then again, when your lover was Jack Harkness, you could hardly expect to be the only person to feel strongly for him. You couldn't even expect to be the sole object of his affections. Gwen and Ianto had grown to be such good friends that it hurt her to see him hurting.

"I didn't think that he would take Jack leaving so hard," Tosh said, fiddling with a delicate golden necklace that she was wearing around her throat.

"None of us did," Gwen said. There was another long pause as the three watched Ianto take his large trash back, now nearly full, into the kitchen.

"I did," Owen said. Gwen and Tosh looked at him, incredulous and indignant.

"You did _not_!" Tosh exclaimed.

"Stop pissing about!" Gwen said. "Can't you see that he's hurting?"

"Who says that I'm pissing about?" Owen asked. "Do I look like I'm joking?" And, truth to tell, not the slightest trace of a smile twisted the man's lips. He seemed completely serious.

"Owen, you don't even remember our birthdays," Tosh said. "_And_ I send out reminders! How are we supposed to believe that you understand the intricate depths of Ianto's character?"

"I am a brilliant physician," Owen replied. But he was unable to keep a straight face. "Sorry," he said. "That was a bloody good one, though." When he saw the glares that the two women were shooting him, he sighed. "I dunno. I guess that when you spend as much time trying to infuriate someone as I have with Ianto, you sort of inadvertently…get to know them. I mean, for God's sake, when I told him that he was only Jack's part-time shag, he _shot_ me!"

"I think that was more because you were trying to open the Rift," Gwen pointed out. She and Tosh knew exactly what had happened—they'd watched the CCTV footage of the confrontation over and over, and they laughed every time.

"Yeah, well," Owen said. "The point remains. If you're ever able to drive him out of that butler-character he's got going, you'll see that he really cares about Jack."

"And now that Jack's gone, he's wondering whether Jack cared about him in return," Tosh said. "Oh, Ianto…"

"Yes?"

All three of them spun round to find themselves face-to-face with the subject of their discussion. Ianto stood framed in the door to the briefing room with his hands in his pockets and the typical mild expression on his face. He looked almost exactly as he had in the past—the same old Ianto if you were able to ignore the nearly-concealed aching sadness in his blue eyes.

"Did you want something?" he asked, glancing from Gwen to Owen to Tosh. It was a long moment before any of them had the presence of mind to answer.

"Er…would you mind doing us a pot of coffee?" Owen asked.

Ianto fixed him with a long look. He seemed almost on the verge of refusing the man's request, but something inside him snapped and shattered at the last moment. He looked at the ground, studying the toes of his immaculately polished shoes. "Of course, sir," he mumbled. "One moment." He hurried out of the room.

Gwen slapped Owen's arm as soon as the door swung closed behind Ianto. "He didn't _want_ to make us coffee," she hissed.

"I just don't see why not!" Owen said. "I mean, what's coffee got to do with Jack?"

"Jack always said that he hired Ianto for his coffee," Tosh said quietly. She was watching Ianto as he approached the coffee machine for the first time in weeks. He moved warily, as though it was some sort of highly dangerous alien that might lunge for him at any moment.

Owen snorted. "Coffee. Yeah, right. Jack didn't hire Ianto for the _coffee_."

"Oh, would you just _shut up_, Owen?" Gwen snapped.

Owen opened his mouth to snipe back at her, but the sound of clinking ceramic from the Hub floor drew his attention instead. Ianto was pulling mugs off the rack slowly and mechanically, as though he was on autopilot. Owen closed his mouth.

"We've got to get him out of here on more assignments," Gwen said. "If he stays cooped up in here, who _knows_ what'll happen?"

"I dunno, Gwen," Owen quipped. "A man can only have so many Cyberbabe girlfriends. And besides—has he had any experience?"

"That cannibal village," Tosh said without looking at either Owen or Gwen. "He was ready to die to save me. And when Owen was…out of if after Diane—"

"And thank _you_ for bringing that up, Tosh," Owen said.

"—he was ready to step in to fill his responsibilities," Tosh continued, ignoring the doctor. "And you should hear Jack go on about how they met. Weevils and pterodactyls. And coffee."

"Weevils?" Gwen asked.

"Apparently he saved Jack from one. Barehanded."

"Pterodactyls?" Owen asked.

"How do you think we got Myfanwy?" Tosh said. "Ianto caught her and Jack brought her in."

"Coffee?"

Tosh had her mouth open and the words all lined up to explain this part of the story when she realized that neither Owen nor Gwen had been the one to ask. Instead, Ianto stood in the doorway. The three Torchwood operatives blinked at him for a moment, utterly thrown at being caught off-guard by the same man in the span of five minutes. He was now carrying a silver tray with three coffee mugs on it. Delicious steam spiraled out of each cup. Owen watched the spirals closely, unconsciously licking his lips.

"Cheers," he said, grabbing his mug off the tray. Gwen and Tosh followed suit.

"Thanks, Ianto," Tosh said.

"Not a problem, Tosh," he replied, though his expression clearly stated that it _was_. He nodded to Gwen and turned to leave the room.

"Ianto—" Gwen called after him. He turned back, mild smile still plastered on his face. "I—_we_—have a proposition for you." A small spark of interest ignited in the man's formerly expressionless eyes and spurred her on.

"How would you feel about getting out of the Hub a bit more?"

**Review, please! I love them! I live off of them!**


	5. Sleeping Smile

**Hello, beautiful people, readers and reviewers alike! I love all of the former, and I especially love the latter. Care to make the upgrade? It's within your power!**

**This chapter is sort of a welcome break from all the angstiness that I've been writing. Now, because this is set right after "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang," we've got a lot of fluffy Janto. My favorite. Also, this chapter is more "T" than any other chapter in this fic.**

**Disclaimer: I still own Torchwood. And, despite pleas from my darling reviewers, I will never let Gareth David-Lloyd go. Otherwise, how would I get him back again? Other than enticing him with my feminine wiles, of course.**

Ianto Jones' face felt funny. That was the first thought that crossed his mind upon slowly swimming back towards consciousness. It was only after he'd lain in bed for several long minutes, enjoying the soft caress of the sun on his skin, that he realized what was causing the strange sensation.

He was smiling. Ianto couldn't remember the last time he'd truly smiled with no effort or force, and the concept of smiling in his sleep was completely foreign. That was something that children in movies did, and he was a grown man living in a cold and unforgiving reality. The only things he did in his sleep were whimpering and screaming.

But despite this logic there was no mistaking the waking expression on Ianto's face for anything but a smile. And memories of the previous night only made that smile wider. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, crossing his arms behind his head.

**xXx**

"Now we've got to go through this whole night again," Jack had moaned, sounding more like Owen than Ianto was comfortable with. He and Ianto had been standing in a shadowy sidestreet with a good vantage point on the Hub's entrance. Jack shot Ianto a sideways glance. "So what do you think? Are you up for some dinner?"

Ianto had yawned. "I dunno, Jack," he said, perfectly aware that this was the date that Jack had been asking him out on. "I'm not sure that I'd be able to stay awake." He glanced at the other man and almost laughed when he saw the look of puppy-dog-disappointment on his face. "But, if you're interested, we could pick up some takeaway and bring it back to my flat. No chance of running into any of our past selves there."

He could have sworn that he saw Jack's ears perk up with eagerness. "Let's go," the older man said, leading the way to Ianto's car. Now Ianto _did_ laugh, a quiet little chuckle that echoed through the darkness.

"Chinese?" Jack asked as he climbed into the passenger's seat. He might be Ianto's boss, but Ianto had made it very clear in the early stages of their relationship that he was the only person who was allowed to drive his car.

"Yeah, sounds good," Ianto said, yawning hard enough to make his jaw creak. He slammed the car door shut and started the engine. "Only, do you think you could get it delivered? I don't think I'm going to last if I don't get some coffee soon."

"Anything you want," Jack said. "I can't have you giving out on me." Ianto couldn't miss the meaning of his words—it was a classic Harkness double entendre—but Jack's heart obviously wasn't in it. He looked so nervous and so anxious to please that Ianto couldn't get angry at him.

He wanted to, though. He _really_ wanted to. After months of loneliness and worry, the man had just popped back into his life as though he had never been absent.

Jack ordered the food over the phone without consulting Ianto, but Ianto didn't mind. The restaurant was one that they had ordered from frequently—_had_ ordered from frequently—and Jack knew all of Ianto's favorite dishes and ordered most of them. He also knew Ianto's address and flat number, and gave them to the anonymous voice on the other end of the line without needing confirmation from Ianto. He hung up the phone just as Ianto pulled up in front of his building and parked the car.

The pair climbed the stairs to Ianto's flat in silence—Jack, because he was nervous about what Ianto was thinking and Ianto because he was so tired he was nearly falling asleep where he stood. When he finally managed to get the door unlocked, he stumbled straight for the coffee machine (a smaller and much less complicated version of the one at the Hub) and turned it on. He stood, unmoving, as he watched drops of the delicious brew trickle slowly into the pot. Jack settled himself on the couch with a sign and silently watched the tired young man from across the flat.

When the coffee pot was adequately full, Ianto poured himself a mug. "D'you want some?" he asked the older man.

Jack's face split with a grin. "Sure!" he said. "How could I refuse? I haven't had any in a year."

Ianto gave him an odd look as he walked towards the American with the cup. "You've only been gone for a couple of months," he said, handing the mug over.

Their fingers brushed as Jack grasped it, and Ianto could feel that familiar shiver of electricity (_God, I missed this_) run through his body. Their eyes locked, blue on blue, and it suddenly seemed as though they were much closer than they actually were.

"Yeah…" Jack whispered. "I guess it just felt like a lot longer than that." Ianto nodded, the only coherent response that he felt he could muster. The electricity between the two turned into a magnetic field, drawing them together until…

The buzzer rang. It was the delivery man asking to be let up. Ianto complied, and then took several protective draughts of his coffee, mostly because Jack's mouth still looked awfully tempting and it helped to have some sort of barrier between Jack's lips and his own. By the time he paid the delivery man and brought to food over to Jack, he could feel energy pinging through his veins, though he wasn't exactly sure he could credit it entirely to the coffee.

The pair tucked in to the food—Ianto hadn't realized how hungry he was in his fatigued state. He kept catching Jack shooting glances in his direction, but whenever he looked at the Captain, the other man whipped his head back around and stared down at his sweet and sour pork. Ianto set his plastic chopsticks down and put his Styrofoam container of Szechuan green beans on the side table. _Just ask him,_ he thought. _Ask him. This question is always going to be hanging right over your head—so ask him._

"You aren't going to tell me where you went, are you?" Ianto asked. Jack froze with a forkful of fried rice held halfway up to his mouth. He set it down with a sigh.

"I—I can't tell you, Ianto," he said. "I want to, but I just _can't_."

Ianto fixed him with a steady gaze. "Was it really that bad?" he wanted to know.

Jack shook his head. "Worse."

"How—how are you?" Ianto winced at the stupidity of the question, but it was already out and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I've been better."

Ianto scooted closer to the other men and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked hesitantly.

"Just—I need you to understand something," Jack said. "I need you to know that you, Ianto Jones—you mean the world to me. And I really, _really_ should have told you that earlier."

Ianto was suddenly having difficulty breathing, and again he felt as though he was being drawn towards the Captain. That was such an untypical response for Jack. No innuendo. No suggestiveness. Just pure emotion. "It's been _months_—" he said helplessly.

"If I could have come back sooner, I would have," Jack said, and Ianto was comforted by the fact that the American seemed to be having as much trouble breathing as he was. And even though Ianto had cursed the man in his absence and vowed never to succumb to him again (even if Jack returned and he had the chance to)—he believed him. He believed him, and he forgave him.

Suddenly Jack's lips were on his—or his were on Jack's, since he wasn't certain who had made the first move. Jack's tongue slid along his own, and Ianto gave in to that familiar heat he felt rushing through him. He gave a tiny moan—the slightest of sounds—and looped his arms around the Captain's neck, pressing up against the other man as best as he could in their awkward seated position. Jack's hands were running through Ianto's hair and down his back and along his face and Ianto found himself mirroring the other man' actions. Now it was Jack's turn to moan, louder than Ianto had. He drew back just far enough so that he could stare into Ianto's eyes, and Ianto shuddered. He wasn't really one for clichéd phrases, but he had to admit that Jack's bright blue eyes more or less _smoldered_ with desire and—something else? But Ianto couldn't place it, and with Jack's hands on his chest and the feeling of Jack's breath on his lips and the incredibly recent memory of Jack's mouth crushing his—well, Ianto wasn't terribly keen on the idea of detective work. Not when there were so many other, much more fun things to be doing.

But now as he lay in bed eight hours later with that unfamiliar smile on his face, Ianto felt almost certain that the last night had been a dream. Jack couldn't be back. It was impossible. He was going to get up out of bed and see his apartment empty and quiet, just as he had every morning for the past few months. Except…

Well, Ianto could not deny the fact that, under the twisted sheets, he was completely naked. And those looked awfully like Jack's red braces on the floor. And through Ianto's open bedroom door, he could hear the whir of the coffee machine and a familiar voice humming strange songs.

Jack appeared in the doorway, and Ianto couldn't help but notice that the American was as naked as he was. "Coffee?" Jack asked.

"Yes, please," Ianto said, sitting up in bed. "But be careful. I don't want to even think of the kind of burns you'd get if you spilled."

"But we'd have so much fun playing 'Doctor,' wouldn't we?" Jack had disappeared back into the kitchen and Ianto could hear him pouring the coffee. In almost no time the man was back, padding across the bedroom floor. He handed one mug to Ianto and kept the other for himself, balancing it as carefully as he could as he climbed into bed beside the younger man. He fixed Ianto with a goofy grin. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," Ianto said, smiling just as broadly. Jack winked at him and took a sip of the coffee.

"Oh, God," he said. "I wasn't kidding when I said I missed this."

Ianto watched him quietly for a moment. "Let's have a toast," he said.

"Toast?" Jack asked, looking slightly confused. "Alright, I could go make some—"

"No, _a_ toast," Ianto clarified. He held up his coffee mug and Jack, finally catching on, did the same. "To new beginnings," he said.

"And second chances," Jack added.

"And pterodactyls," Ianto said.

"And chocolate." Jack was starting to laugh.

"And coffee," Ianto said.

"Definitely to coffee," Jack agreed. They clinked mugs and drank, never breaking eye contact.

Months ago, it had seemed like the end for Captain Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones. Both were quickly learning, though, that the end made a damn fine place to start from.

**God, sorry for that awful 'toast' pun, but once I'd written Ianto's line, I just couldn't resist. **

**Review, please!**


	6. The Magic Touch

The coffee machine was sensitive

**HELLO ALL! If you are reading this, you've earned a special place in my heart.**

**This chapter goes out to dirtgirl, who gave me the idea for it. I've been having a bit of trouble with writer's block, but this goes a long way to fixing it. So thanks, dirtgirl!**

**This chapter takes place right after "Countrycide." Sorry if you get a little confused, since it's out of order with the rest of the story. Also in this chapter, we see the return of Angst!Ianto. Welcome him home, everyone! I've missed him.**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, fine, you got me. I don't own anything.**

The coffee machine was sensitive. Some might say that it required a gentle, practiced hand to operate. Some might even go so far as to call it "temperamental." Owen called it a "piece of useless rubbish," but never within earshot of Ianto—the Welshman might only be the tea-boy, but his few powers were mighty ones, indeed. Owen had crossed Ianto before, and the punishment was something he had no desire to experience ever again.

Ianto agreed that the coffee machine was sensitive and required a gentle, practiced hand. He even believed it to be rather temperamental. He did _not_ call it a "piece of useless rubbish"—he respected the machine too much. Instead, he saved that particular description for Owen, and Owen alone. It fit well, he thought.

But in all his months of wrangling with the mischievous machine, he'd never had as much difficulty with it as he was now. He pressed the buttons, but the water didn't start boiling. He turned the handles, but the beans wouldn't grind. He pushed the levers, but the foam didn't rise. Ianto quietly sat in a nearby chair and stared down at his hands.

They were trembling uncontrollably, and Ianto knew that was why his machine wasn't responding. He hadn't been able to unload the dishwasher earlier that day because the dishes rattled so loudly in his tremulous grasp that he'd set them down hurriedly.

His hands were also covered in more scratches than he'd ever had at one time on his _entire body_. It hurt like hell to flex his fingers, but he did it anyway because, despite his state of nerves, the invisible cotton fog that seemed to surround him ever since Lisa's death was just as thick impenetrable as ever. It felt good to feel _something_, even if it was pain.

Ianto would have given all his coffee secrets at that moment just to be able to sleep without dreaming of that…slaughter house. He yearned with every fiber of his being to be able to forget, but Retcon would most likely seriously mess with him. After the whole debacle had finished, Ianto had removed himself from the flurry of police activity and seated himself quietly on the boot of the SUV, studying his coworkers. He'd been more or less in shock at that point, not fully processing what had just happened. The full magnitude of it all didn't hit him until he was standing in the shower back at his flat. He'd begun shivering uncontrollably, though the water temperature was scalding. He still hadn't stopped.

The sound of footsteps on the metal grating of the walkway made Ianto jump about a foot in the air. He sprang to his feet and whirled to face the source of the noise, reaching for his gun.

It was only Jack. The older man held up his hands in mock-surrender. Ianto pulled his fingers away from his gun and took a deep, shaky breath.

"A little skittish?" Jack asked, lowering his hands. Ianto glared at him. Jack sighed. "Yeah. Well, you have every right to be."

"I know I do," Ianto said, walking over to lean on the railing. He stared down at the Hub's main floor. Silence stretched between the two men.

"Tosh told me what you did for her," Jack finally said, walking up to lean on the railing beside Ianto. He didn't look at the younger man. "That was very brave of you."

"Do we have to talk about this?" Ianto asked quietly.

"_Very_ brave," Jack continued, ignoring Ianto's plea. "_Incredibly_ brave, actually."

Ianto snorted. "Brave was you driving in on that truck and saving all our asses," he said. "You could have been killed."

Jack smiled, but it wasn't the beaming grin that made Ianto's heart flip over in his chest. Instead, it was full of self-derision and cynicism and pain and anger. "Killed…" the older man muttered. "I guess I just didn't think about it." He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling loudly. "I never do—not anymore."

This was a distinctly odd thing to say, but Ianto wasn't in the mood to demand an explanation, so he let it slide. "Nothing I did mattered in the end, though," he whispered, eyes now glued to Myfanwy's cave. "They got Tosh back. All I did was get myself beaten up with a baseball bat."

"But you did that _very_ well," Jack said. Ianto glared at him again. "Sorry," Jack said. "Not the time for jokes." The younger man returned his gaze to Myfanwy's cave.

"How is Tosh?" Ianto asked.

"She's home. Shaken up but—she's coping." Jack gripped the railing with both hands, watching with detached interest as his knuckles slowly turned white. "I hate to say it, but I almost think that she's used to it. All the blood and danger and death." He released the bar and watched the bright red color his skin turned. "Honestly, I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"I thought she'd be here," Ianto said.

"Is that why you came in?"

"Yep." Ianto turned and leaned back against the rail, calmly regarding the stubborn coffee-maker. "I wanted to make her a cup of coffee."

Jack was regarding him with a carefully guarded expression. "Coffee? Why?"

Ianto met his gaze with level blue eyes that betrayed no emotion. "She brought me a coffee, sir," he said. "Nobody ever brings me a coffee, but after Lisa—she did. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't angry She understands me." He looked back at the machine. "Sometimes I think she's the one person in the world that I'd die for."

"You love Tosh," Jack said in a voice that was curiously muffled. Ianto smiled.

"Yes," he said. "I really do. She's like another sister to me."

Jack walked up beside Ianto. He stretched out a tentative hand to the machine and gently stroked a silvery expanse of metal. "But you're not _in_ love with her?" Jack asked. Ianto did his best to ignore the hopeful tone in the other man's voice by ignoring the question altogether.

"Couldn't get the coffee machine to work, though," Ianto said, staring at his reflection in the curved metal. His face, bruises and all, looked strangely distorted, like a funhouse mirror. It was mesmerizing.

Jack jerked his hand away quickly. "What?" he said, astounded. "But it always works for you! You've—you've got the magic touch!" This last sentence was uttered with the traditional Harkness leer that Ianto knew so well.

The Welshman held up his own hands, which were still shaking. "Not today, I'm afraid," he said.

"Jesus," Jack breathed. Cautiously—with as much hesitation as when he'd touched the coffee machine—he wrapped an arm around Ianto's shoulders. "Ianto, I—Christ, you're shaking like a leaf!"

"Sorry, sir," Ianto murmured. He felt himself melting sideways into Jack, and every moment he spent pressed against the older man his shaking diminished more and more. Jack's only response was to wrap his other arm around Ianto and hold him as tightly as he could.

When Ianto's shivering had all but stopped, he pushed himself away from the Captain. "Sorry, sir," he said a second time. "Won't happen again."

"Don't—don't say that," Jack said, meeting Ianto's eyes. For a moment, Ianto felt as though he was being electrocuted with blue lightning. His breath caught in his throat. He had to restrain himself from reaching out and grabbing Jack again.

But then—Lisa's face, crumpled into a mask of death. The echoes of four guns pumping bullets into her body. The stench of blood and death in that hellish kitchen in the countryside. Ianto turned back to his coffee machine—his safe, metal, unemotional, simple coffee machine.

"Coffee, sir?" he asked in a voice as devoid of emotion as he could manage. He heard Jack sigh and move away.

"Yeah, sure," the American said. "Just bring it to my office when it's ready."

Ianto nodded without looking back at the Captain. He reached out a finger and pressed a button. The machine whirred to life. He smiled coldly. At least his "magic touch" hadn't completely deserted him. That was something, at least. In a world of nothing, that was something.


	7. Dead Man's Decaf

**Yes, yes, I know. An update! What a shock! I've been incredibly busy and preoccupied lately—I'm gearing up the move into college, and having all my friends move away with the prospect of my imminent first time away from home has kind of eliminated all creative flow within me. But this is just a little update that's been hammering inside my head for a while, and even though it's not that great, I decided to let it out.**

"Well?" Owen's face wore an expression of pure hope. "What d'you think?"

Ianto took a sip of the coffee, trying hard to ignore the blatant ridiculousness of the situation. A plaintive zombie was asking his opinion on his coffee. The fact that this particular zombie was Owen Harper—a man who, in his living years, had existed to torment Ianto—did not escape him at all.

But dealing with the ridiculous was all part of working for Torchwood, and if Ianto didn't know that by now then he figured he'd never learn.

"Pretty good," Ianto finally said after several long moments of careful consideration. Owen's face nearly broke into a smile at the approval, and Ianto fought back a wave of surprise at how much his opinion meant to Owen. He would honestly never have expected that in a million years. He raised an eyebrow. "I see you've taken my lessons to heart."

"God, you sounds like bloody Obi-Wan Kenobi," Owen said. Ianto sighed. He'd hoped that death might eliminate the doctor's caustic sarcasm, but that particular characteristic of Owen's seemed to have been too much for Death to handle. But then, so was the rest of Owen, it seemed.

"Don't knock it," Ianto told him, setting the cup down on the table. "I wouldn't these secrets to just anyone."

"I won't _breathe_ a word," Owen said with a wry smile, beginning to fill the other mugs. He sorted them onto a tea tray. "Geddit? _Breathe_?"

"Oh, I get it," Ianto said. He watched the other man quietly. "Jack doesn't take sugar in his coffee, you know," he said. "And Gwen likes a dash of milk. And this time of day, Tosh'll be wanting tea. Earl Gray. No lemon."

He saw Owen's knuckles tighten as the doctor gripped the edges of the tray with all of his frustration and anger. Owen set the tray back down on the table with more force than necessary, sending scalding coffee slopping about and creating a deafening crash. Ianto didn't flinch—he just regarded the other man calmly.

"Everything okay up there?" he heard Jack call up from the Hub floor. He and Tosh had been peering at what looked for all the world like an alien frying pan for nearly two hours, shooting incomprehensible technological jargon back and forth at lightning speed.

"Everything's fine, sir," Ianto called back down to the Captain without taking his eyes off of Owen.

"Would you mind keeping it down, then?" Jack yelled. "We're trying to concentrate! Thanks!"

"No problem," Ianto said. He thought that he could hear the American muttering something about how he "never thought I'd have to tell Ianto to keep it down. Normally it's hard work just to get him to make a little whimper. I remember this one time—" But to Ianto's relief and Jack's probable disappointment, Tosh cut him off before he could finish the story.

Owen had begin to make Ianto's specified fixes to the coffee orders, rattling plates and cups with the same barely-contained anger that Ianto had come to associate with the young man.

"Why won't you yell at me?" Ianto finally asked him. "You'll barely even look at me. You've exploded at Tosh, Jack—everyone except me."

"What kind of a question is that?"

"A curious one." Ianto replied. "Is there an answer?"

Owen set down the spoon that he'd been using to stir Gwen's coffee and—somewhat to Ianto's surprise—actually seemed to be considering the question carefully. He ran the fingers of one hand—the bad hand, with the digits that he'd broken himself—along the outside of the coffee machine. Ianto felt almost mesmerized watching the bandaged hand move. He was transfixed by the thought of what it must have been like to snap his own fingers, especially if the experience evoked no sensation whatsoever.

To feel nothing. A year ago—after Lisa—the concept would have been the most desirable thing in the world. He'd have been able to escape the agony that drowned him every time he drew another breath, to find a way out. But it had been the little things that had pulled him through and kept him going—the little things that had saved him. The taste of fresh-brewed coffee. The feeling of the sun on his skin. The sensation of Jack's lips on his...

Owen would never feel anything like that ever again. Ianto blinked and looked back at Owen's face. The doctor was also staring at the bandages that wrapped his fingers.

"You don't treat me any different," he said slowly. He couldn't seem to meet Ianto's eyes. Ianto didn't blame him. This was the longest that they'd ever spent talking without the conversation degenerating into a horrible row.

"You're still you, Owen," Ianto said. "Just a bit...deader."

Owen snorted. "Yeah, well, they know that," he said, gesturing at the Hub. "That doesn't stop them from treating me like I've got some sort of contagious disease."

"I don't know," Ianto said. "You just act the same. You haven't changed."

"I act the same?" Owen asked incredulously. "I'm moody and angry and irritable and impossible to be around—"

"Sorry, are you listing those as differences?" Ianto asked. He was gratified to see a smile ghost across Owen's face.

"I insult people more than I did," Owen said. "I shout at them. I can't stand to be near them."

"See, those might be differences to Gwen and Tosh and maybe even to Jack," Ianto said with a lopsided smile. "But you've always constantly insulted me and shouted at me. And you've never been able to stand being around me."

Owen considered this for a moment. A grin broke across his face. "I guess I haven't," he said. "Sorry. I've been a twot, haven't I?"

"Don't you dare apologize," Ianto said. "Then I'll know that being dead has changed you and I'll start to tiptoe around you like the rest of the team." He wasn't worried. Owen's words were apologetic, but the expression on his face was anything but contrite.

"Please, don't," Owen said.

"Go ahead then—call me tea-boy and get back to work," Ianto prompted the other man.

"Right—what d'you think you're doing, standing about and chatting? You're just the tea-boy. Go...make tea!" He shot Ianto a quick smile. "How was that?"

"Could use some work," Ianto replied. "But you're getting there."

**Yeah, not great, but I figured that I'd post it. We'll see if I get around to writing another part. I hope I do, but if I do it probably won't be for a while. I've got all that packing and moving in to do...gulp.**


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